Ruthless
by Missabear
Summary: What happens when Grindewalds Daughter is sent in the future? Follow Hatty and her quest to find pieces of her past, and Help Harry save his Future.
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction**

**A/N Hey! This is my first story. I am already a good way into it, but originally was going to post it once I was done with it, while I could possibly write a second book, but upon re reading it, I realized how rushed it seemed. I still like the plot, so I was thinking of just rewriting it. Or maybe I could just write another story, anyway, I'm not sure if it's any good, so please, comments are appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. **

A young baby sat alone in a field. The father and mother were no where in sight. The baby had a note, written on parchment, in regal script. The note was tied around the small child's neck along with a golden necklace. The infant was wearing a beautiful dress, and sat quietly in the field. The thing did not cry nor whine. The young child did not utter a noise.

Yet, if some unsuspecting muggle bystander had happened to cross this baby they would be quite confused to say the least. And if said bystander learned the babies heritage they would be quite afraid. But, yet neither happened for a long time.

Days perhaps may have even added up to weeks, yet the baby stayed full and watered. The baby also stayed deathly silent. If said bystander ever had ventured into the babies mind for a visit, which is impossible, for a muggle of course, they would have been lost in the pure intelligence and violent scene that was rolling on repeat in the youngsters mind.

_A women looking a lot like the baby looked down at the baby she cradled in her arms. She held the baby as if it was her own delicate soul, rocking the youngster in her arms. Screams of pain were constant outside along with explosions, harsh words spoken in another language echoed throughout the beach. Blood stained the sand, but the women made no attempt to leave the desolate cavern she was situated in. It faced the beach where two men battled for more than glory, and their lives, but for their beliefs. There was almost a nostalgic feeling surrounding the whole scene as if they were remembering a better time, where they dueled with each other not against. _

_ Men lined the scene, all injured, some just mentally. They all watched on, wondering their fate, if the their leader lost. Both men, fired away for along time with no end in sight. In fact they battled with the same gusto they had when it had all begun. _

_ The anxiety poured out of the woman spectating. She feared for more than her life she feared for her young ones. Her child. As she watched her spouse battle on. She just wished for the fray to end, without any fatalities. She knew both men who battled on and on. She cared for both of them deeply and wished for them to cease the fight, but as she knew very well neither would push down their pride. She watched carefully hidden away, tears began streaming down her face. She cried out of despair and for the hope of peace. She cried for as long as the fight went on. _

_ When finally she saw one of the men fire a killing curse, she watched her love crumple to the floor. Such a powerful wizard diminished to nothing. It frightened her. She hid behind a wall as the tears grew in size and speed. She tried to restrain the sobs that had called forth. She restricted them in a poor attempt to stay quiet. _

_ But soon, Dumbledore's men arrived. One of them looked at her and cackled. He started the killing curse but before he could he mutter the second vowel, the women crumpled, much like her husband to the ground while the baby disappeared. The killing curse rebounded off the stone and straight into the heart of the unsuspecting man. The man stood with a surprised expression forever molded into his face before collapsing, nothing like the husband and wife had early. And there went all evidence of the child. It was 1946._

But, lets wonder, what if the man who had stumbled across the baby had not in fact been a muggle, but a wizard. A wizard.

An aged version of the man who fought the father of the baby looked straight into her piercing blue eyes. She looked straight back. The man fought the urge to cry as he looked at a perfect combination of his childhood friend and said mans wife. The baby threatened to drown him in memories. He scooped the baby up cautiously. Little did he know that this was his little wake up call signaling that he did not in fact know the right way to do everything.

He sighed as he rocked the baby back and forth. He walked away from the field and through the dark forest. He passed Centaurs, Living Trees, a Unicorn, Thestrals, and even a baby spider. He did not stop, even when the Centaurs bowed to the bundle in his arms. He kept up his pace moving forward.

He slipped by vines and trees. He brought the young one up to his office at Hogwarts. As he sat in his chair he stared at the child. He had no idea what to do, no upper knowledge, he had as much clue as an average wizard. He thought about it more, maybe this is how it was supposed to be. What, he thought would an average wizard do? Call the Ministry. He got off his chair without a hesitation. He called the Ministry.

"Hello? You have reached the Ministry, please state your business." a chipper voice sounded

"Hello, I have found a child with no parents." Dumbledore responded

"Ah, I see, if you could drop the child off in the fourth floor of the ministry building I will inform the Matron, may I ask who I am speaking to?" The women said without a beat missed.

"Dumbledore." He responded happily, he hung up before a response could be made.

In truth, Dumbledore wasn't even sure this baby was a wizard. And as he thought about it even more, where had this baby come from? If he involved the Ministry there would be so many restrictions. He wouldn't be able to control or manipulate the baby.. He knew it would be hard for a muggle to live with wizards. He decided that he wouldn't send the baby to the ministry, he would send the baby to a muggle orphanage. He quickly dialed the ministry for the second time in the hour.

"Hello? You have reached the Ministry, please state your business." a happy voice said.

"Hello, this is Dumbledore, I am afraid I will not be giving the Ministry the child. She appears to be a muggle. I am deeply apologetic for the inconvenience this has caused you." Dumbledore wished he didn't have to explain to the ministry his every action, but he couldn't have any more unpositive attention on himself.

At the same time, in quite a different setting a foster home was bustling. The matron of the home stomped down the stairs and screeched at the top of her lungs, "YOU WILL NOT TOUCH MY SHOES UNLESS YOU ARE CLEANING THEM DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" the young girl cowered under the woman's shadow. "Yes madam." she whispered her voice quivering. "Good." The woman spoke harshly. The girl scurried away quickly, she had simply knocked over the shoe, in fact it hadn't even been her fault. She had just simply tripped as she was running from Joe, who threatened to push her down the stairs because she didn't do his homework for her. "Oh, you think you are done, don't you." the lady snarled, it wasn't a question, everything she said was right. "Sorry Madam." the girl said, her voice full of fear.

She walked back to the women, standing on her two feet, they were spread out to brace the impact of whatever her punishment was. She slapped her across the face "That" she spat out "is for touching my shoes." she slapped the girl again and screeched this madly "And that is for walking away from me, when I didn't say you could do so." she slapped the girl one more time and started to cackle madly "And that was for fun!" She walked away swaying, and cackling.

The young girl turned to run towards her room tears streaming from her eyes when the door bell rung. She turned to look at the door quizzically, until deciding that no one else was going to answer it and one beating was more than enough for a day. She firmly wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened the door.

An old man with a white beard, and who was dressed quite strangely answered the door. "Hello, could you direct me to to your matron?" he said warmly, the girl panicked for a moment before deciding to just say the truth. "I'm really sorry but she is busy right now, but I am able to help you in any way that she can." he chuckled at that but still kept his grandfatherly facade. He handed the bundle over to the girl and said "Take care of her." he just left.

The girl watched him turn around and walk down the path. She saw him turn down the street. She watched him until she could no longer see anything. And when she heard what she believed to be a crack of thunder she shut the door. She turned around and huffed. She walked down the hall and placed the baby in the crib hoping that no one would notice anyhow. And with that last fleeting thought she turned and walked back to her room.

The baby was given the nickname Poppy, soon after she arrived, the letter that had been placed around her neck, Dumbledore kept, and planned to give her should she attend Hogwarts. If not he would probably hunt her down, or not, she was in fact just another child. The girl was not what anyone would ever consider normal, in fact she was quite the opposite. When she was younger weird things would happen around her, once when she was mad because someone forget to feed her all of the food in the kitchen turned green and then exploded. But as she grew the occurrences grew less and less and common and only appeared during dire circumstances.

The young girl also had very few friends. Mostly it was hard for her, so many people feared her it was hard for her not to take advantage of it. It was very challenging to resist demanding for someones meal, when yours was so small, especially if you knew they would say yes. It was also so tough not to threaten terrible things to get what you want. She often found herself questioning ethics and morals, and also questioning why she tried so hard to withstand them. It grew to be even more of an uphill battle when she learned how to harness her powers, with her new found ability to direct and focus her power to a specific person or thing she could follow through perfectly on every threat.

Luckily, it was almost as if having no friends helped her. Every time she wanted to hurt someone she reminded herself that there was a reason she had no friends and if she could just continue to not harm anyone she may gain some friends. Too bad for her, that no matter what she did, or didn't do, they still feared her, and if it weren't for a certain letter, she may have become what she most feared. Ruthless.


	2. 1- The Last Straw

**A/N: Hi! Well I decided to continue it! I guess I keep on forgetting to post. Not that anyone reads it. But poof, who cares! **

**Disclaimer: If I owned this idea I think a whole lot more people would be reading this.**

**Chapter 1**

**The last straw**

I remembered the fight, and the screams, in vivid detail. And I lived it yet again. I saw my father die, and then my mother, I saw the man who tried to kill my mother die too. I saw blue light, it was a nice blue like a sky blue mixed with a lavender purple and then with a tad bit of the blue you saw right before a storm. If I could I would paint my room that blue. But this room is supposed to be temporary, and they don't want someone to paint the room a neon pink then to have the next person live in it be a boy. As if someone besides me would live in this room any time soon. Ha. Yeah right. You see this is my tenth coming on eleventh year in this hell hole, if they thought I was going to be adopted anytime soon, they were kidding themselves. All people had to do was look at my records and suddenly, they didn't think adopting was the right choice for them.

It had been like this for as long as I could remember. The first family that saw me took me in with joy. I was a pretty cute kid. But then they dropped a glass and I was startled so I may have blown up their window. They thought it was a coincidence, but then later that night, they were being to loud and I shattered the wine bottle. The first thing the next morning they brought me back. The next time I lasted a week until I turned the neighbor purple and furry. After that Madame warns them about me, and I don't leave. I guess that's good for everyone else since I am the only one who stands up to her. She learned long ago not to slap me. Or even touch me. So, I pretty much roamed the home all by myself. I had perfect grades, not by effort, just by natural talent. Or, maybe it was all those theory books I have read. Anyhow, school has never been a problem for me. Though, the people in it on the other hand made no sense. Especially when I began to go to public school. Everyone seemed to be obsessed with dumb things. They loved their hair and appearances. I even remember one girl who died and straightened her hair so often it became like an Afro, she ended up shaving her head and waiting for healthy hair to grow, she wore a wig in the mean time. Or they would put on so much make-up they looked disturbed. A little bit like they decided to blink in a whole bunch of ink as like a way of self-punishment. In retrospect, I thought they were bad at that age. I wasn't even in high school. Thank god.

I was always alone, mostly because I never wanted company. I freaked a lot of people out, but it wasn't just because of the odd things that I did, it was more because of other abilities. Music, was my life, at the time of course. I played the piano with ease and elegance, from the first time I placed my fingers on the yellowing keys at the home. One of the volunteers played the piano well, and she taught me the basics. Once I got really good the director at the home had no choice but to appoint me a teacher. I excelled even more, until I was beyond the teachers lessons. That was when I no longer had a tutor, I just played by myself, I tried to compose my own music, but it was always to dreary and melancholy. A bit like my life then. I could never find it in me to make happy, cheery music that sounded original. I guess most of us classical musicians are just dreary depressed folk, who are moody and anti-social. It used to be the perfect description of me. Anyhow, these skills were just another thing that placed me against the children in the orphanage and at school. I knew some of the other children were jealous of me. Through out my whole life at the home, the only friend I ever really had and kept was the piano. And at the time I didn't really mind it.

Of course there were some downsides to my friendless situation that I recognized at the time. You see, normally until you are 15 you sleep in a room with 4 other people, two bunk beds and one single. There are normally 16-20 children living in the home and 10 bedrooms. 3 of the bedrooms where pretty large and 2 of those large bedrooms are where the normal under 15 year old's reside. Then if you were over 15 or had a mental (people with physical problems were not permitted in the home) problem you received your own rooms. Most of the rooms for older people used to be medium rooms split in half, so in the average room you could touch both sides of the wall. I though was removed from the 15 and under room after I everyone but me miraculously got bugs in their bed, after teasing me that day. I was placed in the attic. The attic is said to be haunted, most of it is used for storage, but there is the old slaves quarters. The matron actually turned it into a "bedroom" or so she said. She told me I could use any of the junk in the attic. The house was old, incredibly old. Finding things to furnish my room had been quite fun, I found a really cool old bed that had metal wood headboards with weird mythological creatures carved into it. I also had found a matching wardrobe, and vanity. Then I had found a phonograph and a lot of old books. I had loved that set up, but the instant the Matron had came into the room, to fetch me for a piano lesson, she took all of the furniture and sold it. Now, I don't have nearly as cool furniture. All I owned was a simple iron bed, a floppy mattress and an old pealing dresser. I don't really mind since I am so far away from everyone else. Sometimes the matron even forgets me and I can stay in silence and solitude for the day reading the odd books in the attic. Most of the books made no sense. Talking and talking about theories for things that don't exist. I read chapters upon chapters about words that made things happen. I even read about weird plants and animals that combined make remedies and medicine. I was engrossed in the books, in the beginning, I thought it was all fake, but I had nothing better to do, but after a while, I realized unless one person kept on changing their name and wrote books about the same theory, or it was a collection of mad and deranged writing the same books, the ideas where to recurring for it to be a whole bunch of different people writing about one thing and a collector lived in this house. All of the books were about magic.

I lived on these books, I memorized everything, but never once uttered a thing out loud. I was always afraid. I was afraid of something happening and me hurting someone, or the spell messing up. But I was also afraid that it was all wrong, and that I had wasted all that time reading fiction. I never once ever whispered a single "spell" aloud.

I may have been afraid of spells, but I never once trembled underneath the matron. I hated life in the home, I always wanted to help the people in the home. I wanted to make the matron feel afraid of harming every single child. But everyone in the home rejected my help. They prided themselves on being independent and never owing anyone. They especially wouldn't owe someone as strange and scary as me.

I plopped down on my bed with a silly smile stretched out on my face. The springs cried in protest even with my light and fragile body. The thin sheets and ragged quilt bunched up and scratched my skin, but my smile never faltered. I had a friend. The moon shone through the cheep blinds shading the big stain glass windows from me. Rainbow patterns fell on my bed. I looked at them with giddy eyes and a stomach that was doing jumping jacks. It took all of my control not to start jumping up and down. I had a friend.

I was minding my own business when a kid my age with crazy red hair came over to me. I was outside enjoying the sun, while it lasted. I lived right outside of London, and it always rained here. I learned that when I was sunny, you had to go and lay in the nice soft grass. I had my eyes closed so that I didn't go blind, but I let my face sprout even more freckles. I didn't care what the matron said about skin cancer, and hobos not having enough money to pay for a skin cancer treatment, let alone enough to keep you alive. But hey, what did she know? I was about to move under the apple tree because I could feel a sunburn coming, but when I sat up I was met with piercing green eyes. I almost peed my pants, no one ever snuck up on me. Ever. No one was ever quite enough or was willing to risk my wrath. "Excuse me?" I said upset. "Sorry." he returned. We kept looking at each other until he sat right next to me and looked up at the sky. "Did you know that the sky is blue because the molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light. But when the sun sets the blue light has scattered and is out of sight so we see red and orange. The theory behind that is called Tyndall effect and it was first experimented by a man named John Tyndall in 1859. He discovered it by-" I cut him off by saying "I did know, I already heard it once and do not need a review." He nodded curtly and said. "I am sorry." I looked at him and said "Sorry for snapping at you." He nodded again and offered his hand "Friends?" I nodded a new sense of joy over coming me. "Friends!" I beamed and angled my self to cover the new sunflower plant that was rocketing from the ground. We smiled and continued exchanging weird facts that we knew, until it was dinner and I left to my room.

Sadly, that morning I did not wake to the sun shining at my face but in fact a collection of incessant tapping. I sighed and slipped out of the rusty bed and ignored the moaning it made. I opened the blinds and saw the shadow of what seemed to be a rather large bird. I looked for the hidden latch of the stain glass. I finally found it and unlatched it. The bird came flying in at full speed. I watched the bird as it gracefully maneuvered itself to sit rather elegantly on my beds metal headboard. Upon second glance the bird was actually an owl a rather exotic auburn one too. I cautiously approached the bird, using steady, confident and reassuring steps. The bird almost seemed to give me an incredulous look and stuck it's leg out. I shook my head and decided to go all for it. I just walked up to the bird and it remained unfazed. I shrugged and untied the ribbon but as I stroked the bird I couldn't help but be reminded of a carrier pigeon. I looked at the elegant calligraphy addressing the letter to

_Haddith Grindewald_

_The attic at the Home for the Deprived_

_5 Holland Ave._

I stared quizzically at the letter. It was addressed to my room, and it wasn't like there were any kids who lived here anytime in the past 20 years. Also, it had the Home's name right, so they weren't sending it to the wrong home. And something about the regal made me think that they weren't one to make mistakes. I pondered about the name. I was given a nickname when I arrived, Poppy, but the girl who had received me, said the old geyser who had given me away didn't give any information. It could quite possibly be that this is my parents or someone who knew about my past writing to me. They could possibly have information that I don't know. I looked hesitantly at the letter. As soon as I opened it, I bit my lip, a little bit afraid, I could be sent to Juvi for reading other peoples mail. I stopped biting my lip and just shook it of. I carefully using my finger, I opened the letter pausing at the wax seal. I took a breath and opened it. The paper they used was less papery and more parchment like, there were two pieces folded carefully and flawlessly into thirds. I shuddered, this was an important letter. I unfolded it, and dropped it as soon as she read the first line. With a shaky hand I retrieved the letter and this time forced myself to reach the end of the letter.

_Dear Miss Harriett Grindewald_

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

I looked in awe at the letter. Suddenly everything started to thread together, _Witchcraft and Wizardry. _I ran, almost tripping on the uneven floorboards but just ended up stubbing my toe. I grabbed one of the books, _Introductory to Witchcraft and Wizardry, the basics for all __those who missed out a childhood living in the world of magic. _I grabbed it and ran back to my bed I opened the book up and looked through some of the earlier passages, until I saw the words I was itching to see. _It's most important for one with magical abilities to visit a magic school to harness ones power, schools in Europe are Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beaubuxons, St. Stephens Cathedral and Magic school,- _ and the schools just kept on going. But right at the front of the line was _Hogwarts._ My heart skipped a beat just looking at the proof that this did exist. I just then remembered the second piece of parchment. I opened it up so quickly I almost received a paper cut. I looked with my mouth opened, at the paper. There listed objects that I was to obtain, to own.

_UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
sets of plain work robes (black)  
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
by Newt Scamander  
_  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
by Quentin Trimble_

_  
OTHER EQUIPMENT  
__  
1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales_

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

I suddenly felt my mood drop, where would I get the money? I cringed at the thought, all of these things, (silver fastenings stood out prominently in my mind) would probably cost so much I trembled at the thought. But, I wished to go, maybe they would make an exception for me and I wouldn't have to buy any of cheese things. I almost laughed, as if. They would probably just say that if you cannot afford it, just go home. My lips trembled at the thought. I sighed, they must realize my situation if they addressed the letter to the home. I took my pencil and sat on the floor. In the most elegant script I could use I carefully wrote back.

_Dear Prof. Mcgonagall,_

_ I am very honored that you consider me a eligible pupil for your school. I would love to attend, but you see I have a little bit of a problem. I have no parents and no money. I would have no way to afford the objects I need for school. I also do not know where I would obtain these objects and no means of transportation. I would very much appreciate it if you would send a representative from your school to the home I am at. Thank you for the letter._

_ Yours Truly_

_ Harriett Grindewald (Poppy)_

_p.s I was wondering if you knew anything of my heritage, you see I do not. I didn't even know my name, until now. Any information you could give me would be of extreme help. _

I bit my lip reading over my letter for mistakes, I didn't want the teachers there to think I was messy and sloppy. I was happy with how intelligent I sounded, and thought that I had asked all of the questions I could think of. I took the ribbon the first letter was attached with and tied it around the flimsy paper like a scroll, I then turned to the beautiful owl. She stuck her foot out for me. I carefully tied the letter on to her leg and she flew away. "Good bye." I whispered quietly. I heard the owl let out a hoot and smiled happily.

Dumbledore sat patiently at his desk, wondering what the students this year would be like. He smiled to himself and looked at his desk. He twirled his wand between his thumbs. He made a lemon drop fly around in the air like a muggle airplane. He then burst the candy into flames. He then looked up into his phoenixes eyes. The stared back down at him. He sighed and was about to play with another candy when Prof. Mcgonagall came bursting into the door. "ALBUS!" She yelled her face red, no doubt from running through the halls, "Yes Minerva?" he said calmly. She held up a letter in her hands. "I just received a letter. From Harriett Grindewald." Dumbledore froze at the name. Grindewald. "It must be a mistake. Maybe it was an owl that got delayed, or stuck in some sort odd Dimension. Don't worry Minerva. If you give me the letter I will evaluate it and tell you my findings." She shook her head but gave him the letter anyway. She left without a word. Dumbledore held the letter in his hands and looked down at it. He didn't actually believe a word he had said. This was possibly Grindewalds granddaughter and now she was coming to school. The same year as Harry Potter. He sighed, what to do? He untied the ribbon, and read the script. He sighed, she was in a muggle foster home. A flash of Tom Riddle in his mind. He would have to prevent that from happening. The girl seemed quite humble and intelligent. But what frightened him even more was that she seemed charming. Just like Tom. How was he going to do this. He would have to apparate to the Home right away. And so he did.

I was sitting at the piano bench again. It was right after dinner and the sun was shining in the dusty music room, I had from now till supper to play. Uninterrupted. I thought that if I ever wrote a happy song now would be the time to. She pictured how happy she was when she received, she tried to match the feeling of her fast beating heart to her fingers which were already bouncing on the keys as if they were trampolines. She started to laugh as the song got happier and happier. Her fingers looked like swarms of grasshoppers on a sunny day. Thats what she would call the song. Grasshoppers on a Sunny Day. She took a piece of paper from atop the piano and began to record the notes she played tweaking parts that didn't look right. She smiled when she looked about done for now. She heard a person clearing their throat and she looked up from her spot on the floor to the eyes of a murder.

Her mind played repeat of her father dieing at the hands of the old man with a long beard. Again and Again. When she finally regained her senses the man was towering right over her with a gloomy look on his face. I scampered away from him. I hit my head on the radiator as I backed my self into the wall. "Y-y-you killed my father." I stuttered out. I could see the man get even more sad. "I did."


End file.
